


Masters Little Savage

by CaityLikesWriting



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animalistic, Anxiety Disorder, Blood, Bloodlust, Borderline Personality Disorder, Cage Trauma, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Collars, Death, Gen, Gore, Human Experimentation, Leashes, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mental Breakdown, Mental Conditioning, Mental Instability, Mild Cannibalism, Murder, Overstimulation, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaityLikesWriting/pseuds/CaityLikesWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1880. Dogfighting has been outlawed. Little did anyone know, another sport was being developed.<br/>Human Dogfighting.<br/>Children and men would be conditioned to fight each other as adults, sometimes to the death.<br/>Sold by his mother at age four, Dasa has been mentally conditioned to be a vicious, bloodthirsty pitbull. He has never lost against anything in a fight, and he doesn't plan to start anytime soon. He has the mind of a dog, going from loving pet to vicious beast at the snap of his Master's fingers.<br/>But soon, things heat up, causing Dasa's already messed-up world to be turned upside down. Its survival of the fittest and smartest, and Dasa is no stranger to this challenge.</p>
<p>[Read Note Before Story]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masters Little Savage

**Author's Note:**

> [READ BEFORE STORY: Dasa and Bruce (Master) are NOT, i repeat, ARE NOT in love. There is no romantic relationship going on between them. Bruce sees Dasa as his dog and Dasa sees Master as his owner/pet-like-daddy. Whatever you read, there ARE NO ROMANTIC FEELINGS between them. You may continue to story]

“I cant afford another mouth to feed.” the woman complained, gripping the wrist of the red-haired four year old. He didnt understand what was going on.  
“I can offer you a hundred dollars for him.” the man said, waving the money. “Clean cut, you never have to hear about or from him again. Itl be like he was never in your life.”  
“A hundred dollars?” she exclaimed. She shoved the child at the man. “Take him. This will feed my family for over a month.”  
The man smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you.” he said, tipping his hat. He picked the four year old up and walked away, disappearing into the night. The child watched his mother go. He was happy to be free of her. Maybe he was going to a loving family now.

The boy crouched in the tight cage, unable to do anything more. It had been five years since that night. The second that man had put him down, a collar had been placed around his neck, attached to a leash. He was dragged down a hall and put into a cage for the night. The next morning is when his hell had started.  
This was that same cage. There were scratches, marks, and blood all over it. He was being carried down a different hall. Hed never been here before. The cage was sat down and the door opened.  
“Out.” he was ordered. Obediently, the boy crawled out of the cage. Hed learned long ago to comply as quickly as possible. The keeper grabbed his collar and yanked him into a different cage, this one much larger. The door slammed shut behind him and locked. This cage was more like a room. He wasnt used to so much space, had called that tiny cage home for five years. Maybe he was being rewarded for something. If only he had known this was only phase two of training.

The trainer grabbed a chunk of his hair and yanked his head back. “If you bite me one more fucking time i am going to knock each and every one of your teeth out.” he snarled. The boy growled, baring his teeth. For his training, hed been fighting dogs. According to his master, they were trying a new style of fighting, wanting to get it more savage. At thirteen, the boy had been far surpassing anyones expectations of savage. His master wanted to encourage that, and so he was fighting dogs. Hed picked up moves from the vicious beasts, such as dodging, charging, and biting.  
The only problem was, the boy had started biting his trainers and keepers, developing an attitude. This had resulted in many a beating, but the boy didnt care.  
The trainer threw him to the ground. “Stay.” he snapped, and walked away. He made a phonecall and the next dog was brought in, growling. The boy bared his teeth and snarled. The dog snarled back, lunging. He was held back by a thick chain, the keeper struggling to keep his grip on it.  
The boys trainer slammed the phone down and stomped over. He snapped his fingers and got the boys attention. “Lets see what your owner has to say about this, you little shit.” he growled. The boy bared his teeth and growled at the trainer. The trainer stuck his finger in the boys face, opening his mouth to yell, and the boy snapped his teeth at the finger, thrashing his head.  
The trainer screamed and wrenched his hand free, and then reared his hand back and backhanded the boy, sending him to the floor-  
“What the fuck do you think youre doing.” a deep voice boomed from across the large room.  
The boy rubbed his face and picked himself up, cocking back his fist-  
“Dasa, sit.” his master commanded.  
The boy caught his arm and dropped to the floor, crossing his legs.  
His master walked towards them, his cane plugging into the floor every few steps. He stood in front of them, looking at the trainer. “If im not mistaken, i believe docility training was completed about....four years ago.”  
“Hes not docile anymore. Hes disrespectful, disobedient, and insubordinate.” the trainer stuck his finger in the boys face again and he snapped his teeth at it. “And he wont stop biting me!” the trainer snapped.  
His master looked down at him with a hard face. The boy shrunk into himself, the leather of his fighting collar digging into his jaw.  
“Were feeding him raw meat, yes?” his master asked.  
The trainer nodded. “Yes, sir.”  
“Good.” his master said. He turned to the trainer. “you say he has a biting problem?”  
“Yes.” the trainer grit out, glaring down at him. The boy bared his teeth, growling.  
His master nodded. “Lets encourage that.”  
“What?!” the trainer exclaimed. “B-but hes disobedient, an-and-”  
“And if you hit him like that again i will personally break all of your fingers. There is a lot of money invested into that dog, and theres about to be even more. And start feeding him meat with strong bones in it.” and with that, his master left.

Three days after that, hed gone through a living hell. His front teeth had been filed into sharp points, giving him long, sharp canines. He had a set of teeth that belonged on a dog, or a wolf. Everyone had started calling him by his master-given name, Dasa. Theyd encouraged his biting and savagery, and had set him against bigger and bigger dogs. Now he was seventeen, and he was a bloodthirsty animal.  
Currently he was sitting at the feet of his master. Hed just won his first fight.  
All of them.  
They were at some kind of party, with cigars and a lot of alcohol. His master was playing some kind of card game, Dasa didnt really know. He was underneath the table with his legs crossed. His collar, black leather with small spikes and a jingling nametag, was connected to a leash. His master was holding the other end.  
Dasa was tired, and hungry. He wanted to go home, back to his cage, so he could eat and sleep.  
He was wearing simple pants but no shirt, and felt droplets of water n his back whenever a drink was held over him. He flinched every time, and his master would place a hand on his head to still him.  
It was a small comfort, but comforting it was. It was the only comfort hed ever recieved.  
A man with a big, beefy dog walked in. Dasa didnt see the man, only his legs, but he saw the dog. It was wearing a chain collar and had its ears cropped. Dasa tilted his head. He hadnt seen a dog in a few years.  
The dog chuffed and sniffed, looking straight at him. It growled. Dasa growled back, baring his teeth. The leash attached to Dasas collar gave a small jerk. Dasa looked up, but his master wasnt looking at him.  
“Look who it is, Jack and the famous Meaty.” his master said.  
Dasa looked at the legs of the man, who sat in a chair. He snapped his fingers in front of the dog and pointed at the floor, and the dog laid down, still growling at Dasa.  
“I heard you got a dog, too, Brucey.” the man said, resting his foot on his knee.  
“Well, after a few years of training anything can be a dog.” master replied.  
“Wait, so its not a dog?”  
“No, its a boy, but he might as well be a dog. Frank, deal the fucking hand wouldja?”  
The man with the dog - Jack - leaned down and peeked under the table at Dasa. Dasa blinked at him.  
“Damn, hes on a fuckin leash and everything!” frank laughed. “How the hell did you pull that off?”  
“Mental conditioning.” master replied. “Hes got a set of choppers, too. Cost a pretty penny but it was worth it. Beats dog fighting.”  
Jack whistled a few times. “Here boy. C’mere.” he whistled a few more times, patting his leg. Dasa stared at him.  
“Heh. Some dog.” jack straightened again.  
“Hes well-trained and understands english, though he doesnt speak. Your dog only knows a few words and phrases. Humans make better dogs.”  
Dasa looked up at his master and then back at the dog, who was eyeing him. His neck hair stood up, and he tensed.  
Jack stood and walked over to Dasa, crouching down in front of him. Dasa leaned away, staring at the man with wide eyes.  
“Dont touch him, hes likely to kill you.” master said simply, tapping his cigar out.  
“Oh what can he do? Bite me?” jack started reaching out for him.  
Dasa bared his teeth and growled, leaning back as far as he could. His leash wouldnt let him go any further, and jack kept coming. Dasa looked at his master and made a sound of distress. Master ignored him, looking through his cards.  
Jack laughed. “This is the big and tough fight dog? Impressive teeth but come on. Hes whimpering!”  
Jack reached for Dasas face and Dasa panicked, snapping his teeth in warni-  
The big tan dog lunged, barking and snapping his teeth. Dasa lunged too, punching the dog as hard as he could, sending it flying. It got up, shook his head, and lunged again. It snarled and Dasa grabbed it by the throat, biting whatever his teeth hit. A shoulder. He clenched his teeth shut and thrashed his head. The dog squaled and fought against him, trying to bite him, but Dasa help firm. People were shouting and a woman screamed. Dasa kept thrashing his head, tasting blood. It poured from his mouth, dripping to the floor. He released the dog and bit the side of its neck, once again thrashing his head. Somebody grabbed Dasas collar and yanked backwards, causing him to take a chunk out of its neck. Blood covered his mouth, neck and chest, and he chewed the piece of meat in his mouth.  
Men were shouting and screaming, and Dasas leash was yanked, his master dragging him to a corner and tying him to the sink.  
Dasa swallowed the meat in his mouth. He wasnt punished for that night, but people did learn not to touch the human dog. It had dire consequences. 

 

“Step right up! See the beast himself!” the announcer chanted. Dasa sat with his back against the cage, glaring at the crowd. His master had taken him to the fair, advertising the show for later. Human dog fighting.  
The president had banned dog fighting and it was too closely watched as of right now, making it harder to organize a fight. Human dog fighting had been growing in popularity and participants had taken this chance to bring it up front in the open.  
“See it here folks!” the announcer continued. “A man with the mind of a dog, and the instinct of a killer!”  
A group of men approached, laughing. The announcer continued his chanting and one man reached between the bars, trying to touch-  
Dasa leaped forward and snapped his teeth, causing the man to jolt backwards and land on his ass, his friends bursting into laughter.  
“Dont stick your fingers in there, hes a highly trained killing machine and he hasnt been fed yet. See it tonight, tickets only twenty five cents!” the announcer said, and then continued chanting.  
Dasa sat back against the cage and rubbed his temples. He hated this shit. The annnouncer was giving him a headache, as were the people screaming and laughing. He was used to the screaming and cheering of the crowd of people watching him fight, but that was with adrenaline pumping through him and exertion keeping him busy. Now he was just sitting here, people watching.  
It had been five years since his first fight. Hed killed that dog that night. At seventeen, hed taken out the best and meanest fighting dog in America.Dasa was a man now, and very strong. He hadnt been back to his cage since that one night. He stayed in a crate in his masters house. While his master was at work, Dasa was outside, working out in the kennel out back. It had been the first time hed been in the sunlight since he was four years old.  
Now he was stuck in the shit for the day as a sideshow attraction. He hated people.  
Look at them. Bumbling about, eating weird foods, playing stupid games.  
“Mama, mama, mama! Lookit! Lookit! Its a dog man!”  
Dasa raised a brow. What the fuck was this thing?  
It looked like a miniature version of a person. It was wearing tiny clothes and walking and talking. Dasa scooted to the front of the cage, tilting his head. What are you?  
The tiny human giggled as the woman looked at Dasa with distaste. “Dont get too close, Liam.”  
The tiny human giggled.  
“Beware, young man, the beast eats children for breakfast. Come, see him fight, tickets only twenty five cents. The man with the mind of a dog, fighting for dominance.” the announcer continued.  
“Does he speak?” a woman asked, walking up and looking into the cage.  
“No he does not, he only grunts, growls and howls.”  
I do not howl. Dasa glared at the announcer, and looked back at the tiny human, only to find him gone.  
“Dont stick your fingers in the cage, hes a savage beast and he does bite. Come, see him in action tonight, tickets only twenty five cents!”  
Dasa sighed, laying down in the cage. Hed been out here since morning. He was hungry, and tired. He just wanted to rest. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could catch a few hours of sleep.  
After a while, he felt something poking his arm. He opened his eyes and found a young man jabbing his arm-  
He lunged, snapping his teeth. The man reared back, letting out a cry of alarm. Dasa growled, baring his teeth. When the man walked away, Dasa laid his head back down. Soon after, the group of young men started poking him with a stick. He bared his teeth and they jabbed him in the side. He grabbed the stick and yanked, jerking the man toward him and grabbed ahold of his shirt. He bared his teeth, snarling through the bars just inches from the man's face, who cowered back. Dasa yanked him once more, causing the man's face to slam into the bars.  
Leave. Me. Alone.  
The man cried out in pain, holding his busted mouth.  
“Ey wise guy, what's the big idea? That freak just assaulted my friend!” one of the men in the group demanded of the announcer.  
“The man has the mind of a dog. Would you play with a pitbull like that? I think not.”  
“If hes got the mind of a dog why'd he use his hands?” another man in the group snapped.  
“Bring the bastard out, ill fight him myself!” another man in the group stated.  
Dasa growled, getting agitated.  
“No can do, the great beast is a man-eating killing machine, and he's a lot bigger than he looks. Come see him tonight, tickets only twenty five cents.”  
The men scoffed. “Yeah, ill go. I doubt he's that good. His opponents prob’ly pull their punches.”  
Please let me eat them.  
They bought their tickets and left. Hours passed and Dasa did eventually get his sleep. He was woken up by the cage lifting. They carried him into the big tent that had been behind him, and walked through the ring People ran around him, laughing, eating, screaming. The tent flaps parted and he was carried through, all the way to the back. The giant caged-in ring was being set up. He sat up and crossed his legs, resting his arms on his knees. In the very back of the tent, there were other men with collars on, chained up in a row with large boards separating them so they didnt kill each other.  
The men stared at him as he was brought in. They glared, obviously having been preparing to fight all day. He bared his teeth and growled low, a warning. He would be the winner this night. Hed never lost.  
A few other richer-than-most masters were filing teeth of their dogs, having seen Dasa in action. Dasa still had an advantage. The other dogs were having theirs done recently, and most were still learning how to properly use them when they fought him. Dasa had had his teeth for nine years, had sharpened and ground them on bones, had perfected their use and trained with those that they were modeled after. Dasa was the original, all others were the copy.  
The cage was set down and the door was unlocked. It opened and he crawled out, waiting for the chain to be attached to his collar. As soon as it was he sat down with is back against the wall, leaning his head against the board that separated him from the meat.  
Speaking of meat….a metal platter was placed in front of him, with a section of cow leg in it. Ah yes. Meat and bones. His favorite. It was placed down kicked toward him, sliding across the dirt.  
He grabbed it and bit into it, tearing the meat. It was just big enough to give him the taste of blood and let him sharpen his teeth on the bone, but not big enough to sate his hunger.  
The blood covered his mouth as he chewed. There was another man across from him, looking at him warily, like he was disgusted and afraid at the same time.  
What? It was just meat. Dasa was sure the other man had eaten plenty of it. He stared the man dead in the eye and ripped a piece of meat off the bone with his teeth and chewed deliberately. The other man looked away, paling.  
Dominance asserted.  
Dasa finished his meat and gnawed on the bone, scraping his canines against it and testing them on his lips. He did this for a long while, until he heard a booming voice from the ring area of the tent. He couldnt see what was going on, but he could hear. The ring master asked how everyone was doing, and the crowd cheered. A betting pool was held. Each of the men were brought out by their masters, one or two at a time. Dasa was last. Master hooked a leash to his collar and undid the chain, leading him down the walkway and through the curtain. The crowd watched him as he was announced.  
“And the one you've all been waiting for, Dasa, The Human Pit Bull! Standing five feet, six inches, weighing two hundred and thirty pounds of sheer muscle, he eats raw meat and is known for tearing chunks out of his opponents. He has never lost a fight to date! He might be big but hes quick, and completely savage. Place your bets, lets see who wins.”  
He stood up straight, a few inches taller than his Master, and people started discussing and pointing, gesturing at him and taking out their wallets and money.  
Master led him away and when he was out of the light, he curled in himself again. He knew better than to think he was above Master. He may bigger, but he was not tougher.  
He stopped at the section that was his and patiently waited for the chain to be hooked back up. As soon as it was, Dasa sat down and leaned back against the wall.  
Master rubbed his head, threading his fingers through Dasas hair. “Good boy.” he said, and then left. Dasa watched him walk away, tucking the leash in his pocket. It would be a while before he saw Master again. He sighed, grabbing his bone and sharpening his teeth, waiting for his turn. If he did good, he was rewarded.  
Hours passed. He heard the crowd cheering, the screams of pain, the applause. He watched the bloody, injured men walk out. The way it worked was, the winner stayed in the ring until he was beaten. They announced who would come next as the opponent and people would place their bets as the match was set up. A lot of money was to made.  
Man after man walked past, leaving fresh, and coming back bloody and slumped. After the nineteenth man came back, Master walked up to him.  
Show time.  
He dropped his bone and stood, patiently waiting for the leash to be attached and the chain detached. When the chain dropped to the ground, Dasa started walking. He was ready. He was led into the arena and saw another man on a collar, connected by a leash. He was bloody, but unwounded, which meant the blood belonged to someone else.  
They were set up on opposite sides of the ring. Dasa rolled his shoulders, swinging his arms and cracking his neck. When he was loose, he crouched in a lunging position, feeling a hand on the back of his neck as Master prepared to let him loose. The crowd cheered, but it faded away. Dasa eyed his opponent, who was making a big show of practicing swinging, showing off his glorified, oversized muscles that in the end would be his downfall. Dasa tensed, starting to tremble with adrenaline.  
Time slowed. He quickly examined his opponent. Oversized arms, thick torso, thick neck. His legs were on the small side, meaning he was topheavy. Artery in the neck would be difficult to get to, but he could tear open his biceps, limiting the use of his arms, and then tear open his jugular.  
Hed have to quick, and hed have to have the element of surprise. With all his showboating, Muscles must have won at least three matches, thinking he was the best. He was sloppy, and even turned his back to Dasa. Oh, this would be easy.  
Finally the man crouched, and his master gripped the clasp of the leash.  
Heartbeat.  
Heartbeat.  
Heartbeat.  
The clasp on his collar released-  
Dasa lunged forward, sprinting towards Muscles as fast as his legs could carry him. He pumped his arms, needing all the momentum he could get. Muscles swung, and Dasa dodged, slipping underneath the behemoth and jumping, grabbing his arm and sinking his teeth into the most muscular part he could find. The behemoth let out a shout of pain, throwing Dasa down. Dasa rolled before Muscles could stomp on his rib cage, and jumped to his feet, swallowing the blood in his mouth.  
Oh...thats good…  
He charged Muscles, jumping at the last second and placing his feet squarely into Muscles chest, sending the giant flying down onto the ground.  
Muscles fell, and before he could get back up Dasa was on him. He took a blow to the head and staggered, holding his head and groaning sharply in pain. He blinked hard and shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy. He saw Muscles trying to get up and stomped over and cocked his leg back, taking a running start and kicked Muscles in the temple as hard as he could, knocking him down for the count. He sat down on Muscles’ chest and grabbed his head, snapping his head down and clamping his jaw shut around Muscles’ neck. He thrashed around, tearing as much as he could. Blood squirted into his mouth, onto his chest, onto the dirt. It was a fountain. He thrashed his head a bit more until finally, he tore the chunk of meat free. His chin was grabbed roughly and he came face-to-face with the stern look of Master, and suddenly Dasa was snapped back into reality  
He was covered in blood. The adrenaline pumped through him and he shuddered. His leash clicked back into place and he was dragged away, his eyes crazy. He suddenly realized he still had a piece of throat in his mouth, and swallowed it.  
His adrenaline slowly left him and his feet dragged as he was led out of the arena. Master chained him back up and rubbed his head again. “Good boy.” he said affectionately, and then left, leaving Dasa leaned up against the wall. He would be back after he collected all of his money. In the meantime, Dasa rested, catching his breath.  
Another night, another kill. He usually had more men to kill, but hed been last to set up a week of shows.  
He would go home, enjoy his reward, come back tomorrow afternoon.  
And the cycle continued.


End file.
